Born of Violence
by Bernarde
Summary: "You see, youngling, Sideswipe used to have a twin. A long time ago, during the war. Many of us believe that this peace was born of something that happened to him. His name was Sunstreaker."
1. Prologue

**Title: **Born of Violence  
><strong>Author:<strong> Bernarde  
><strong>Rating: <strong>Mostly T, but will be M in a few chapters (mostly the third one).  
><strong>Summary: <strong>"You see, youngling, Sideswipe used to have a twin. A long time ago, during the war. Many of us believe that this peace was born of something that happened to him. His name was Sunstreaker."

**Author's Note:** This is mostly G1, with ideas from other lines. This will be my first, and probably only, Tranformer fic. I will warn you now that it is going to be a big one. I have a rough storyline etched out, but I would like to have a general reaction to the premise. As a result, here is the prologue. Please tell me what you think.

**Future Trigger Warnings: Rape, forced sparking, violence, death.**

**Ω-Ω**

When I say that a lot of things have changed, I am telling the truth. Granted, I may not know, firsthand, the extent of such, but I have been reassured over the years by the few survivors. The mechs who raised me, cared for me, even knowing my horrifying origin. Now I speak to the younglings, little sparklings bright with youth, vigor and curiosity. What was it like, they ask. Was Optimus Prime really so regal, so just, so caring? Was Cybertron really desolate, nearly destroyed? They ask about Ironhide, Cliffjumper, Bumblebee, all of the autobots who proudly served, even though they already know all there is to know... Mostly.

What about Earth? Was our race and planet really saved by a race of such inferior beings? How could they have exerted such influence, being simple and frail biological creatures?

And then I get the questions that I despise, the questions that bring tremors to my plating even now. What about Megatron and his Air Commander Starscream? What about the infamous Decepticon intelligence mech, Soundwave? What about the others? Thundercracker and Skywarp? The myriad other Decepticons? Were they really as evil as the data pads record? Couldn't there have been some sort of peace?

Optimistic, naive younglings. I understand their reasons for thinking such things, really I do. But I cannot tell them the full truth, not yet. When they are older, Ratchet says. He is the oldest of our race now, and one of the last dozen survivors of the war. The war that ravaged our home planet and robbed us of a place to call our own. I trust Ratchet more than anyone, I would trust him with my own life. For very sound reason, of course; my logic circuits would not allow otherwise.

But now, youngling, you are of an age and maturity that Ratchet deems sufficient. You will be the first of your generation to know the complete, terrible truth. I hope that Ratchet is right. I hope that this does not dim your spark, but instead fills it with hope. Hope for a new way, full of peace and love for our fellow people.

Shush now, hold your questions until the end. You know how the war began, you have been taught it your entire life. Sideswipe loves to tell the young ones stories, doesn't he? Stories of how Cybertron was. I can't tell you those stories, for I wasn't alive then. But doubtless you know. How Cybertron was so calm and peaceful from the outside... but unjust social stratification tore it apart. I can't blame the lower classes for rising up. You know how they were treated.

Instead, I blame their choice of action. I blame the way the upper classes reacted. Ratchet tells me that it had to happen that way, but I know in my spark that it could have been a peaceful revolution. Not a revolution that destroyed our own planet. Let us hope that such a revolution never occurs again.

Yes, I know that Sideswipe romanticizes his stories. It is his way. He is older than you can begin to comprehend, little one. And now you will know the full story of how peace was again brought to our race... With its own terrible price.

It begins with an autobot that you know nothing about, for we have withheld the information on purpose. Sideswipe used to have a brother, a twin. A long time ago, before I was hatched, while the war still went on. He was a brave, strong mech, and many, including myself, believe that this peace was born of something that happened to him.

I don't know why the Decepticons decided to start using such tactics. They never had before. Torture, yes, they used that. Secrecy and general cowardliness, Primus yes. Excellent strategy in most cases. How could they have known this new tactic would lead to their downfall? They couldn't... no mech could have ever even considered such a thing, especially when the Autobots seemed down and out for good. Regardless, what happened to Sideswipe's twin was horrendous, even in the bowels of war.

The twin's name was Sunstreaker.

-_-_-_- **Reviews are greatly appreciated **-_-_-_-


	2. One

**Title: **Born of Violence**  
>Author:<strong> Bernarde**  
>Rating: <strong>Mostly T, but will be M in a few chapters (mostly the third one).**  
>Summary: <strong>"You see, youngling, Sideswipe used to have a twin. A long time ago, during the war. Many of us believe that this peace was born of something that happened to him. His name was Sunstreaker."

**Author's Note:** I'm going to be mixing and matching continuities because I can. I've noticed that many other authors play freely with the various ideas, and I like it. There will be mild slash, but there shouldn't be anything too graphic. Also, should I use human measurements (seconds, hours, meters, grams) or what?

**Ω-Ω**

It wasn't a noteworthy battle. The Decepticons had raided a deep-sea oil drill, making sure that they had silently disabled the energon detectors. The humans did the only thing that they really could do - retreated and hid in safety while the massive creatures took what they wanted.

When Megatron started killing humans, though, they made the call.

Decepticon attacks were getting more and more frequent, so much so that humans had been instructed to acquiesce to their demands and only call for help if (more like when) the killing began. They didn't always kill, especially if it was a small operation and none of them major commanders were along. But the moment the humans spotted the ominous grey leader, the Seeker, or, God forbid, Soundwave, they knew that some of them were going to die that day.

_:Optimus, we have several human casualties off the coast of the Gulf of Mexico. The 'Cons are raiding an oil drill and Megatron's with 'em. I think the whole Command is there.: _Jazz sent over the open communications line. Nearly all of the Autobots had access to the encrypted channel.

_:How many?:_ came Optimus' calm voice.

_:About twenty, Sir.:_

_ :Dispatch the usual team. I will be there in fifteen minutes.: _

_:Attention Autobots. Dispatch: Team Gamma to the designated coordinates immediately. I repeat, immediate dispatch of Team Gamma to designated coordinates immediately to respond to a Decepticon attack. Casualties have been reported.: _Jazz didn't have to look to know that Prowl was gearing up to leave. Looking at his map, he could see the bright blips of the various Autobots comprising Team Gamma mobilizing across the world and heading to the Gulf.

**Ω-Ω**

Ratchet grumbled irritably at the comm, looking over his med bay. It was, relatively, clean. He didn't have time to keep the place spotless, but he knew where everything was. That was all that mattered. He set the dismembered arm he was working on aside and wiped his worktable down.

"First Aid, prepare to accept casualties," he muttered to his assistant. The quiet mech had already started organizing the med bay so that they would be ready. It shouldn't be a big deal; they handled business like this all the time. Ratchet was just grumpy today. More so than normal, First Aid noticed. Perhaps he had been fighting with his lovers again. The twins did so enjoy irritating him, and sometimes they went over the line.

Yeah, he figured, that must be it.

**Ω-Ω**

The battle was over quickly. Careful not to ignite any spilled oil, the Autobots tried to use non-firing weapons. Instead, Ironhide had his nitrogen blaster out and was freezing the living daylights out of any 'Con he caught while the Lamborghini twins were roughing it with hand-to-hand combat.

Optimus had tried to lead Megatron away, but it was in vain. The dark leader and Starscream seemed determined to kill every human on the rig, and as a result had no problem with shooting directly at the spilled oil slicks around the floating drill station. Fire licked the sky and the humans took refuge where they could. Already nine of them had died, and Optimus was determined to keep that number stable. Sadly, it was already beyond his - or any Autobot's - control.

The explosion was unexpected and rocked the whole station, enveloping the entire area in a thick, heady smoke that clogged intakes and lungs alike. The heat rendered infrared sensors useless, leaving both factions blind.

A sudden blow to the head knocked out Sunstreaker's communication circuits, and he raged at the fact that someone had gotten close enough to hit him. He could hear his brother's expletives coming thick and fast, but a sudden flurry of blows upon his frame caused him to lose focus. Something was wrong with his orientation sensors, and he fell hard. Moments later, there was an earth-shattering blast. He could hear the clean snap of metal and couldn't help but snarl with pain as his leg erupted in agony.

"Sideswipe!" he called loudly to his twin. He couldn't see a meter in front of him, his audials roaring with the sound of guns and the raging fire on the water. Metal screeched and he felt the station give way. Desperately, he fired his thrusters to take to the air, but his disorientated status only threw him into a twist of metal.

With a crash, he slumped down, dizzy, in pain and feeling like his tanks were going to purge.

"Decepticons, retreat!" Megatron's voice. Sunstreaker felt a mild wave of relief; he hated being estranged, helpless, during a battle. There were 'Cons to chop! Even with a bum leg, he could still kick some aft!

He felt servos on him and cussed.

"Finally! Who is that, Sideswipe? You're slower than a -" all too quickly he realized that it was not Sideswipe handling him, grabbing him roughly. In moments he was bound, unable to react as nausea warped his chassis. He tried to fight, but he was securely tied, arms to body, and legs together. The bonds around his injured leg were too tight and he growled in pain.

He attempted to fire his thrusters, but nothing happened. There was a sudden sting in his neck cabling.

"Oh no you don't," Skywarp's voice in his right audial, "This should calm you down, blasted tin glitch." Sunstreaker choked as his processor powered down. He heard someone laugh. He dimly registered being loaded into something.

"Megatron, we've got him."

Everything went black.

**Ω-Ω**

Ironhide swore.

"All of the humans are dead, Optimus," he said quietly, "An' they took 'Streaker. Sideswipe's already chompin' at the bit ta go after 'em." The Prime didn't reply, watching Ironhide put out the fire with his nitrogen blaster. Most of the other Autobots were gone, reporting back to base either by their own mechanisms or in Skyfire's hull if they were too injured.

"They called us to save them. They placed their lives in our hands," Optimus muttered quietly, guiding a blast of water from his right arm to fire that still raged. A hose dangled below him, sucking up clean seawater to fuel the blast cannon. "And we failed them."

Cliffjumper and Bumblebee were below them, beneath the surface, filtering the seawater through scrubbers to cleanse the fluid of oil.

"Primus, we can't save 'em all. We did tha best we could, Prime."

Optimus replayed the video clip Megatron had sent them shortly after his retreat, his optics dimming for a moment. Sunstreaker was badly damaged and offline, bound tightly and laying on bare ground as Megatron spouted off. The Prime wasn't even really listening; it was not uncommon for members of the Autobots to be captured, and he knew they'd get Sunstreaker back easily enough. No, what bothered him was the mech standing _behind_ Sunstreaker.

Silent and ominous, Soundwave looked directly into the camera. Laserbeak was perched on his shoulder. Starscream was to Megatron's right, just almost out of view. It was rare when they saw the Decepticon's communications officer, and Optimus didn't like when they did see him. It never ended well.

_:Optimus, we have no casualties. Worst damages are moderate; Ratchet and I will have everything fixed up within a few days.:_ First Aid's soft voice played over the comm line. _:Of course, we haven't seen the other four of you yet, but considering that you're still out there playing clean up, I would suppose that none of you are too badly injured.:_

"Yeah, an' you'd be correct," Ironhide replied, glancing at his leader, "Damn it, Prime, snap outta it. We've seen worse."

"You saw Soundwave in that video," Optimus finally replied. The two mini bots surfaced from the water, hovering near the two commanding officers silently.

"Sunstreaker's a tough mech. Y'act like he's never been caught b'fore. He'll be fine. If ya wanna worry about someone, worry about the punk ass Cons… they're the ones gonna be in a world of hurt."

"Maybe."

"Water is as clean as it is gonna get," 'Bee interjected meekly, watching as Ironhide hosed down the last traces of flame.

"Plenty of 'Con parts down there, too," Cliffjumper added, "We subspaced most of it; hopefully Ratchet'll have a use for the fragged stuff."

Silently Optimus subspaced the hose and ignited his thrusters, jetting off. No doubt, he was headed for the Ark. Ironhide quickly followed, and Bumblebee frowned as Cliffjumper grumbled.

"The Pit is Prime all fussy for?"

"The humans died. All of them," he explained to Cliffjumper.

"Yeah, I know why he's upset," the red 'bot replied. "But I wish he wouldn't take it so personally."

"He has to. He's our leader," Bumblebee said quietly, "That's his job."

**Ω-Ω**

Sideswipe cursed as First Aid's fingers brushed over sensitive scorched plating.

"Will you please calm down?" First Aid pleaded. The twin stilled a little.

"I'm sorry, 'Aid, I just – the fraggers have Sunny," he muttered.

"I understand that, but fidgeting won't help any. I don't want to damage or hurt you more than you already are." The medic had to admit that his spark ached for his fellow soldiers. Sunstreaker was strong and had been captured before, but one never knew what the Decepticons were up to.

Quieting down, the red warrior calmed himself the best that he could. He glanced at Ratchet, working on Cliffjumper's front struts and pistons with a feverish intensity.

He didn't have to ask Ratchet how he was feeling; he already knew. The principal medic was upset, angry, doubtlessly convinced that Sunny had been caught on his own dumb actions.

But no, _he_ had lost his twin. One moment they had been back to back, and then Sunstreaker was gone. His tanks churned. Yeah, they'd been captured before, but never had they lost each other in battle.

That fragged, damnable smoke… so tangibly thick, like more than just oil. 'Swipe dismissed the thought quickly and instead focused on Ratchet. His lover's movements were harried, not much but enough for the Lamborghini to notice.

Soon, he was shooed off the berth and he headed quietly for the patrol room. He still had his duties, after all. They couldn't fall apart because of one loss.

**Ω-Ω**

The white mech slammed down another cube, processor reeling from too much high grade. Ratchet began to utter a string of florid expletives and tossed the empty contained to the floor. His med bay was filthy, spattered with oil, energon, lubricant: any and all fluids that came out of a Cybertronian.

With a click, the door opened and Sideswipe came in. With a curt snort at the empty cubes, he went to his lover and wrapped Ratchet in his arms. It was rare when he was so tender, but they were in private and Ratchet obviously needed it.

"Ratch…" he said quietly, "Primus, you act like Sunny is made of tinfoil and steel thread. He's all right, we'll get him back."

"Ah know," Ratchet slurred, "But ah just hate it, and ah know he was doin' somethin' glitchin' stupid."

"He wasn't," 'Swipe replied, setting Ratchet to sit on a berth and taking a place beside him. "He wasn't doing anything reckless. There was oil on the water, it caught fire, the smoke was too thick. They just scooped him off."

"You saw it?"

"No, but I know that's how it happened. I was busy dealing with those Pit-spawned cassettes, and it was a lot to take in with the smoke and heat."

Ratchet went quiet. "I'm just too damn old for this."

"You've been saying that for millennia."

"Well it's always been true."

**Ω-Ω**

_:Optimus, to security control immediately.: _The Prime's private comm line buzzed in his head. Wordlessly, he rose and exited his office; the distance to security control was short. He hurried. Jazz's voice sounded… wrong.

When the door clicked open, he was met with Red Alert's horrified face and Jazz manually blocking out the main screen.

"Optimus," the second-in-command croaked, "Close the door. Lock it."

"What's going on?"

"Close. The door. Please." Optimus did as Jazz requested. Then, silently, the black-and-white removed the blocker from the screen, his face turned decidedly away. A clip began to play.

Optimus' face plates, his entire cabling, went slack. The sound and image emitting from the monitor shut out any other perception. Dimly, he heard Red Alert purge.

"Where are they?" His voice was deadly calm.

"We don't know. It's a new base," Jazz replied, his normally warm voice barely a frigid whisper.

"Get Ironhide. Get Prowl. All of the scouts. Everyone. We will find him."

"Yes, Sir."

-_-_-_- **Reviews are greatly appreciated **-_-_-_-


	3. Two

**Title: **Born of Violence  
><strong>Author:<strong> Bernarde  
><strong>Rating: <strong>Mostly T, but will be M in a few chapters.  
><strong>Summary: <strong>"You see, youngling, Sideswipe used to have a twin. A long time ago, during the war. Many of us believe that this peace was born of something that happened to him. His name was Sunstreaker."

**Author's Note:** Holy DAMN the Prime cartoons are good!

**Ω-Ω**

The first thing he noticed was that his orientation sensors were still fragged. He didn't have to open his optics; warnings were blazing down his internals, stating that he was losing altitude and then gaining it repeatedly. His compass spun in dizzy circles, alternatively slow and then manic with motion.

The second thing was the extensive laundry list of errors that followed. His intakes were 48.3% clogged and his left patella plate was missing. Upon closer analysis, he found that the majority of his left leg had been blasted to the Pit. He could smell energon, his own, and the distinctive smell of -

Fusion particles. Megatron's cannon. _That's_ why his leg was fragged. Sunstreaker cursed and onlined his optics.

A brig. He was bound, pedes and servos together, lying on the comfortably cool metal metal that comprised the ground.

"Motherfuckers," he spat out a wad of wires and energon from his mouth. It rang against the floor with a satisfying sound - to him, anyway.

The door clicked and Starscream entered, a wicked grin across his face.

"Disparaging our hospitality already, Goldilocks?" the Seeker laughed. Sunstreaker spit again.

"Go frag yourself, 'Scream. I'm not telling you a slagged thing."

"Oh, we don't need information. Even if we did, Soundwave would have already taken it. No, we have much better plans for you," The colorful jet knelt to stroke the side of Sunstreaker's face. The gold twin jerked away violently from the touch, rolling onto his side with a clatter.

"Don't touch me, you pile of shit!" Starscream grinned again at the use of human slang; it indicated just how angry and disconcerted the Autobot really was.

"I didn't know why he wanted you, but now I think I understand... you're so _feisty_."

"Suck my gas pipe," Sunny grumbled. The proud Seeker laughed long and loud.

"In due time, Goldilocks," he sneered, "In due time." With a cackle, he exited, leaving Sunstreaker fuming and wondering: what in the Pit had Starscream meant?

**Ω-Ω**

His internal chronometer reported that he had been captive for exactly 47.9 hours now. His many energon leaks and minor wounds had auto-repaired themselves by now, and his leg was functional enough to twitch involuntarily. In his boredom, he had fully defragged his systems and rebooted all of his components to the best of his ability. Grunting sourly, he noted his energy was getting low.

He had been captive for 49.3 hours now.

Many of the warnings were gone, except he still couldn't orient himself. He still lay on his side from when he had fallen earlier. To ease his constant queasiness, he had shut off his optics hours ago.

Fifty-two-point-eight hours.

He was in a light recharge when the door clicked open a second time.

Pedes clicked along the floor: Starscream's heel-like thrusters. Heavy steps: no doubt Megatron. Then a quiet sound. The door clicked again, closing. Sunstreaker onlined his optics and felt his processor scramble.

Starscream, he understood. Megatron, he could figure easily enough. But Soundwave? Why was he here? And why all three of them?

"What, wanna know what a real mech looks like?" he mocked, "Maybe build yourselves a decent-looking chassis for once?"

Megatron laughed darkly, but it didn't faze the Autobot. "No, you vain idiot. We have other plans... don't we, Starscream?"

"Yes indeed, my Lord," the second in command replied smugly.

"Give him some energon," Megatron ordered, and without hesitation the Seeker stalked over to their captive and heaved him up to a sitting position. Then he wrenched Sunstreaker's lip plates open, pouring a cube down the mech's throat. The twin spit up some of it because of Starscream's force, but otherwise drank it. His energy was too low and if they wanted to fuel his escape, then he was not going to refuse.

It was bitter, he noted, and poorly refined. It tasted strongly of diesel... the raw material it must have been comprised from. Really? Diesel-based energon? How crude. Granted, he wouldn't expect them to give him high grade, but still...

"Status: His orientation sensors are severely damaged," Soundwave reported in his traditional monotone.

"So I've been told," Megatron replied, leaning down and palming Sunstreaker's face. The Autobot reared back, lost his balance, and crashed into the wall. His plates heated in anger as he heard them laugh.

"Eat filth," he sputtered, struggling to right himself despite his raging nausea, bindings, and complete inability to distinguish up from down.

More laughs. Hands on his chassis, stroking him.

"Don't TOUCH me!"

"You are quite mouthy, aren't you," the Decepticon leader mumbled, "Perhaps I should have Soundwave gag you?"

Dark servos ran over his lower paneling and suddenly Sunstreaker froze as they cupped his interface panel decisively.

"Open it or I will tear it off," Megatron growled lowly. Sunstreaker didn't answer or reply, his body seized still with shock.

With a crunch of metal, the panel was torn off, revealing the Autobot's unpressurized spike and closed valve aperture. A sick wave overtook Sunstreaker and this time, it had nothing to do with his orientation sensors.

"You sick glitch!" he spat, and strong arms clutched him, holding him tight against a warm and boxy frame. Soundwave was restraining him. The twin cussed and shuttered his optics, unable to fight as he was lifted up and -

Searing pain and a thick heat as an enormous spike entered him. His valve was dry, unaroused, and the sensitive insulation stretched to the breaking point as Megatron mercilessly filled him.

Sunstreaker ground his denta hard and tried to wriggle out of Soundwave's grip, away from the invasive cable inside of him.

"What, aren't there any Decepticons pretty enough for ya?" he swore bitterly. Megatron only laughed and bucked hard, burying himself in Sunstreaker's body.

"Still so mouthy, even with a spike up your valve... So feisty," the leader gasped between thrusts. Sunstreaker groaned with distress, smelling his own energon as it dripped from his valve. It hurt, of course, but it wasn't too much worse than rough interface with Sideswipe, or even with Ratchet when the medic was pissed off enough. He'd just never dealt with such a large spike.

He pushed against the fingers holding him, moaning as Megatron pounded into him again and again. Hands on his chassis, touching, clawing, ripping his plating and the sensitive wiring beneath.

"That's new paint," Sunstreaker growled, intakes hissing and engine revving with both anger and pain, "_And_ I was just rewired, you Pit-spawned-" he grunted as he was shifted, pulled onto Megatron's lap as the larger mech sat down. The new position forced that enormous spike deeper inside of him and he felt a quick snap of almost-pleasure.

"Come on, Goldilocks," Starscream taunted, "Show us how an Autobot whore rides."

Snarling, 'Streaker thrashed about, toppling off of Megatron and crashing loudly to the ground, the spike ripping from his valve with a screech of electricity.

"How about you untie me and I'll give you a _real_ show," he spit, kicking his bound legs wildly as Soundwave lifted him by his helm. Now Starscream laughed.

"Trust me, this is already the best show I've seen in millennia."

The rapid movement of Soundwave's repositioning exponentially increased Sunstreaker's nausea, and he suddenly purged onto the floor. He felt like he was going to either offline or purge again and fully disengaged his optics as a preventative measure.

"Recommendation: Repair captive's orientation sensors immediately."

"A good idea, Soundwave." Megatron's voice was filled with disgust. "Take him to med bay and have Knock Out fix him up... at least enough so that he won't purge again."

"Yes, Lord Megatron."

"Did you contact the Autobots yet, Soundwave?"

"Affirmative. Status: Live feed currently being sent."

"What video?" Sunstreaker demanded despite feeling like the he was flipping over and over again.

"Oh, we recorded this little incident and sent it to your base…" For the first time, Sunstreaker felt true disgust and shame.

"You… you _what_?" Megatron cupped the shapely face, steadying the Lamborghini.

"You wouldn't want your beloved Prime to miss out on the action, would you? You have such a _delectable_ aft, I'm sure he's quite pleased to see it properly used."

"You sick, disgusting, foul piece of scrap!" Sunstreaker yelled, fighting in Soundwave's arms. Who had seen it? Now he couldn't deny it had happened, and the whole base was probably watching! He had been planning to not tell anyone of the rape, it wasn't that huge of a deal. But now!

Again, that obscene laugh.

"Take our whore to the med bay."

**Ω-Ω**

Having manually powered their captive down, Knock Out looked Sunstreaker over.

"What a pretty mech," he drawled, "I can see that someone has already had him," he gestured to the energon spattering the golden thighs. "Pity, I would have liked a taste myself, and I'm not one for sloppy seconds. Although for such a special case, I might make an exception…"

"Order on behalf of Megatron: Captive is not to be molested. Perform necessary repairs to orientation sensors only."

Knock Out snorted. "You are absolutely no fun, Soundwave." He began to unscrew the Autobot's helm. "Are you going to help or just stand there recording?"

**Ω-Ω**

When Sunstreaker came back online, he immediately knew that his orientation had been repaired. His comm center was still fragged, of course, but at least now he wasn't going to purge all over himself. Also, his tanks were completely filled. That surprised him. It would make sense for them to keep him fueled enough to be online, but to fuel him to capacity? That was odd. He shifted and pain show up his left side.

Ah… his leg. They hadn't repaired that either.

He looked around. He was in a dark, bare room – not the brig – dangling from stasis cuffs. They provided the only light, glowing a gentle violent above him.

The silence was short as the door clicked and Starscream came in.

"How is our little harlot feeling?" he smirked, coming up close to the Lamborghini and pressing their bodies together, allowing his glossa to sweep over the warm wiring and plating that comprised his captive's neck.

Sunstreaker snorted.

"Ugh, you too? I've pity-fragged hotter mechs."

A crash of metal resounded through the small chamber as the Seeker snatched Sunstreaker's injured left leg and wrenched it hard, earning a low cry for his efforts.

"Megatron will be here soon… perhaps I should warm you up for him, hmm?" Clawed fingers dipped over Sunstreaker's chassis, finding seams and gaps in his plating. They paused around the Autobot's spark chamber and dug in hard.

"Don't you even-ungh!" Another cry was wrung from the Autobot's throat as his spark chamber casing was ripped from its hinges.

"We have such illustrious plans for you beyond merely your slut capabilities," Starscream hissed venomously. Sunstreaker was much too stunned to answer, the implications hitting him with the power of a nuclear blast.

They were going to _spark_ him.

**-_-_-_- Reviews are greatly appreciated -_-_-_-**


	4. Three

**Title: **Born of Violence  
><strong>Author:<strong> Bernarde  
><strong>Rating: <strong>Mostly T, but will be M in a few chapters (mostly the third one).  
><strong>Summary: <strong>"You see, youngling, Sideswipe used to have a twin. A long time ago, during the war. Many of us believe that this peace was born of something that happened to him. His name was Sunstreaker."

**Author's Note:** My goal is to update this at least every Monday.

**Ω-Ω**

Sunstreaker pulled his arms, desperately trying to free himself from the stasis cuffs.

"They are going to slag all of you," he snarled, "If you're really beaming this to base, they're all gonna come after you!" His face plates were hot with disgrace and he kicked wildly with his good leg, ignoring the fierce pain coming from his left side.

Starscream only watched him with a nasty smile, amused by the Lamborghini's antics.

"Keep fighting, Sunstreaker… go on, tire yourself out. It will only make it easier for us," he stroked his clawed fingers down the shapely jaw, fondling the sensitive plates framing the Autobot's face and leaning in for a quick, rough kiss.

Sunstreaker hissed angrily, "If you let me go now, maybe they won't kill all of you. Because Pit sure knows I will when I get free!"

"Oh silly whore… you're not going to get free anytime soon. No one is going to come for you because no one knows where you _are_."

The door slicked open, allowing Megatron and Soundwave to come in. Sunstreaker had no doubt the communications officer was recording and spit at them fiercely.

"Really? You're going to spark me? You realize that Optimus will have your aft for this!" Megatron laughed, red eyes cruel as he stepped close and pulled the twin hard against him, ignoring Sunstreaker's viable leg as it kicked his plating.

"Maybe so, little harlot… but we'll have _your_ aft first," he kissed the warrior hard, forcing his glossa into the warm mouth. Sunstreaker was vaguely aware of Soundwave moving around, but he didn't know where the Seeker had gone.

Then there were hands at his back, stroking his struts and rotors, edging under his plating to caress the wiring there. Well, now he knew where Starscream had gone. The glossa in his mouth muffled any cries as his damaged leg was grabbed and lifted, spreading him open.

"Nnngh!" he cried as his valve was filled abruptly once again by that huge cable. He did the only thing he could do and bit down on the glossa invading his mouth as hard as he could. The sharp taste of energon filled his mouth and Megatron only chuckled. In response, he established a swift and heartless pace, fucking the golden warrior hard. His thrusts were merciless, shattering, and Sunstreaker could feel his valve's insulation tearing.

Then his lips were free and the Decepticon leader was opening his spark chamber, leaning close to him.

"No! Don't you –" The Autobot's protests ended in a garble of static as he was overwhelmed by the joining of his spark to Megatron's. Instantly his processor was filled with hate, lust, rage, arrogance; he could feel every emotion pulsing through the mech currently raping him.

Sunstreaker couldn't hear his own screams, but he could see his face, twisted in agony and shame. He was seeing himself through Megatron's eyes! He hadn't spark-bonded in a long time, since before the war; they couldn't sustain a possible sparkling and he would never have had the ability to terminate one, let alone his own. He was really beat to the Pit, armor scorched and scratched, a puddle of chrome transfluid at his pedes. He could see Starscream behind him, watching Megatron with greedy, hungry eyes. It was a disgusting sight.

For the first time since his captivity, he felt a hollow sorrow grow from within and allowed himself to fall into the sick chasm that was his rapist's mind.

**Ω-Ω**

"Will someone please turn that slag _off_!" Sideswipe screamed, his face buried in his servos. Ratchet sat beside him, face expressionless, almost as if he had deactivated. A hand rested on his mate's back, but otherwise he was not touching the scarlet twin.

Every single monitor in the Autobot base had been hacked, and now they were all shamelessly displaying what was happening to Sunstreaker. What had been happening to Sunstreaker for joors now.

"I don't know how they are doing this; the only explanation is that they got into a hardline," Blaster replied, his voice empty of its usual character. "Rewind and Eject are checking out the wiring, looking for anything suspicious."

"Where are Steeljaw and Ramhorn?" Optimus demanded. His frame was tight, and he refused to look at any of the monitors. His battle mask was secure over his face but there was no doubt in anyone's mind that we was seething with rage just as much as any other Autobot: perhaps even more so.

Suddenly all of the monitors went black.

"Another breach!" Blaster exclaimed in sudden panic. Jazz came in and interrupted without prompt, before Optimus could reply.

"I pulled the plug." His tone was unapologetic, even though it more or less left the entire base blind.

"Under these circumstances, that is forgiven. Jazz, I need you to stay here with Ratchet and Sideswipe. Blaster, Prowl, Bluestreak and I are going to try and find where the signal is coming from. The scouts are already deployed," Optimus glanced at the Lamborghini and the medic, both silent, sitting on the floor with optics downcast. Blaster nodded.

"Let's go."

**Ω-Ω**

The Autobot dangled uselessly, silent as Starscream thrust into him. Megatron was gone now, apparently having had his fill for the time being, leaving his second and third to tend their captive.

"Report: Autobots have attacked coastal base."

"Does Megatron know?" the Seeker replied, not even pausing in his movements as he sheathed himself fully in the warrior's valve once more. He groaned lewdly with pleasure.

"Affirmative. Coastal base: set up as trap."

"Very good." Having not received a command from his lord, Starscream continued his ministrations. The mech was so fucking tight, so hot, but had stopped fighting ages ago. It was hardly any fun now...

"Maybe we should bring your whore brother too," Starscream whispered, digging his claws hard into the wiring of Sunstreaker's back struts and pulling, "And that sorry excuse for a medic you have. Our surveillance indicates that the three of you are just a little too close, hm?"

"Why don't you go back to sucking on Megs' cable, you little freak," the Autobot grated between clenched denta. Starscream ignored him, busying himself with his malicious task. He clung tightly to their captive, thrusts hard and pitiless. The room was otherwise silent besides the forced coupling save for Starscream's almost perpetual moans of bliss.

Sunstreaker breathed out his pain in a silent whisper, too exhausted to keep fighting. Internal warnings indicated that his tanks were getting low; his self-repair systems were using entirely too much energy. His intakes, being clogged as they were, couldn't take in enough air to cool him, causing him to run hotter than was safe. He was also starting to lose sensitivity in his damaged leg, which was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing in that it was less pain for him to deal with and a curse in that the remains were probably going to shut down and he would lose it entirely. He knew Ratchet didn't have the means to whip up a new leg right away; he would probably be one-legged for a long time.

He was distracted from his reverie by fingers on his chest and he heard the shush of plating sliding back. The gold twin opened his optics, looking into the roiling spark in Starscream's chassis. He protested weakly, shifting in his cuffs. The Seeker leaned in close, glossa flicking out and licking at Sunstreaker's spark obscenely.

"Stop!"

"Shut your whore mouth." With that, Starscream merged their sparks and hummed with passion, his assault on 'Streaker's valve slowing and then stopping completely as he gave in to the sensation of spark-bonding.

Pleasure, sadism, aggression, an insatiable hunger for power, bloodlust: All of these emotions flooded the twin as he was forcibly merged. He could feel his valve clench around Starscream's spike and, seeing through the Seeker's eyes, viewed the transfluid sticking and drying on his own legs.

Fire in his sensors, growing as a semblance of euphoria and simultaneous agony. Sunstreaker heard himself scream, and then Starscream's tumultuous overload buried him under its sheer force. He blacked out for a whole klik and, when he rebooted, Starscream was gone.

He was alone.

"Pit glitch…" the twin whispered and off lined his optics. His whole body ached all over and it was just so damn cold, he felt like his wiring was going to freeze up even though his temperature gauges were showing dangerous readings. Dimly, he could feel the second-in-command's transfluid slipping down his thighs and he shifted uncomfortably.

A single coolant tear fell from his left optic, pattering in the chrome puddle below. Sunstreaker knew his communications were down, but in his desperation called out.

_:Please save me.:_

"Pleading: Worthless," murmured a voice behind him. Sunstreaker's body seized up as he realized he wasn't alone. Not at all.

It was Soundwave's turn.

Smooth cables rubbed against his back, surrounding him, stroking and petting, soothing away his innumerable hurts. It felt… good.

"No. Stop," Sunstreaker gasped.

"Order: Silence." Arms wrapped around him, a cube pressed to his mouth. Without thought, unable to resist, the Autobot accepted the fuel. He could not ignore his low-energy levels blasting away in his processor.

The tentacles held him securely and he couldn't help but tremble. It was no secret that the carrier enjoyed toying with his victims. Silently, 'Streaker begged to Primus to be released from this hell. Soundwave glided around him and Sunstreaker refused to open his optics. He wouldn't watch this; he couldn't watch this.

The kiss of a hot chassis touching his, fingers almost tenderly reaching into his spark chamber and stroking the pulsing orb of energy. Sunstreaker shuddered, his frame longing to indulge in the pleasure it was being offered. A part of him wanted to submit, just as long as it didn't hurt anymore, but there was no way in the Pit he was going to willingly take this.

"Stop-ah!" Sunstreaker bit off a howl as the communications officer fused their sparks quickly. Feelers dug brutally into the golden plating, pulling as if determined to rip the metal from the Autobot's body.

Sunstreaker was overcome with darkness. He was perched upon the lip of a cliff overlooking the blackest abyss he had ever seen. And then – he was shoved, falling into it: down, down, down down downdowndown…

Soundwave made a quiet, distorted noise of pleasure as he forced the other mech to overload against his will. 'Streaker cried out as he was crushed under the weight of Soundwave's might, overloading again and again until the bottom of the abyss rushed up to greet him.

With a sob, the warrior went offline, leaving Soundwave to finish in solitude. He overloaded with barely a hitch of his intakes, body trembling with ecstasy as he gorged himself on the few remains of Sunstreaker's sorrowful emotions.

Navy plating shimmered under the violet glow of Sunstreaker's cuffs as his tentacles removed themselves from the Autobot's main chassis. Most of the feelers withdrew entirely into Soundwave's body except for two, which inserted themselves into ports on Sunstreaker's helm.

Silently the communications officer stood there, unmoving, standing for one klik, two kliks, then a full joor, then three. With a sudden snap of electricity, he completely disengaged.

"Report: Lord Megatron, code implemented. Recommendation: Medical examination to check for sparked status."

_:Excellent job, Soundwave. I will send Knock Out immediately._:

-_-_-_- **Reviews are greatly appreciated **-_-_-_-


	5. Four

**Title: **Born of Violence  
><strong>Author:<strong> Bernarde  
><strong>Rating: <strong>Mostly T, but will be M in a few chapters.  
><strong>Summary: <strong>"You see, youngling, Sideswipe used to have a twin. A long time ago, during the war. Many of us believe that this peace was born of something that happened to him. His name was Sunstreaker."

**Author's Note:** I edited this chapter because I hated the way it originally was.

**Ω-Ω**

He couldn't count how many times they'd raped him. How many times they'd fused him: Megatron the most frequently, sometimes three times a mega-cycle. Starscream was the least often, and would only partake when his leader was absent. And as for Soundwave…

He was the worst. Not because it was painful, no, the carrier hadn't even penetrated him. It actually felt pleasant, the warm feelers stroking over him almost tenderly, offering a reprieve from the constant torture. That was exactly why Sunstreaker hated him the most. How dare Soundwave offer him artificial comfort, a false solace! Almost like he thought the warrior was weak and couldn't take the violation!

But he was not weak. He would not break down for their gratification, never. He screamed and raged at them as much as he could any time they came near him, any time they were in the room. But the curses only made Megatron and his second laugh. The third, often, didn't react at all.

_Glitches…_

And the medic. Knock Out. He also visited often, but he hadn't fucked Sunstreaker despite an obvious desire to do so. Instead, he ran diagnostics, checking for a sparked status and assuring Megatron that their captive was functional enough _to_ spark. The Autobot hated him too, hated the way Knock Out openly admired him, his touches resigned and lustful. He hated the way the red mech gave him fuel, nearly cradling 'Streaker in his arms like a sparkling.

Sunstreaker would have his revenge. Somehow, he would slag every single Decepticon who had touched him during this ordeal. Every. Single. One. That thought gave him a sort of hope, a thread of sanity to clutch. Even as Megatron fucked him senseless, even as Soundwave forced him to overload until he offlined, even as Starscream's lustful cries echoed in his audials, he remembered his vow.

Sunstreaker hadn't heard anyone enter, but felt the hands on his plating. Large hands, greedy, stroking roughly. Megatron. Denta nipped at his shoulders but the Autobot didn't make a sound, not even as he was spread open, a large finger teasing his valve.

"Still so beautiful, Autobot," the Decepticon's leader purred at him, sucking on the wiring of Sunstreaker's throat, "Even more so now that you've been cleaned up..." It was true; only a joor ago, a group of drones had come in, supervised by Starscream, and washed him thoroughly, even polishing out some of the scratches and dents. The touches had felt good, but Sunstreaker had remained silent through the entire ordeal. Apparently they wanted him to look good as he was raped.

The physical aspect didn't even bother him so much anymore. Everytime they visited him, he knew what was going to happen. It varied according to the Con in question, of course. Megatron would stroke and fondle him, adorning him with rough kisses before clutching his hips and fucking him brutally. He caused the most pain, servos down. His cable was just so Primus-damned large.

Even now, as the tip pressed against him, hot and pulsing against his aperture, he hurt. The grey mech bit down hard as he entered the defiled beauty, filling him up so undeniably full. Sunstreaker didn't even fight, had offlined his vocaliser even, and was silent and unresponsive as Megatron had his way. It almost angered the Lamborghini how Megatron showed no loss of interest in interfacing him despite his blatant lack of reaction.

_Does he just enjoy being completely in control?_

He knew the answer to that even as he asked it. Yes, a million times yes. The actual rapes weren't that bad. Megatron wasn't as rough as he could have been. But when he fused their sparks... The dozens of forced bondings gave him a clear look into Megatron's psyche. The leader was mad with power, and if Sunstreaker didn't know any better he would say that Megatron had completely lost his processor. Every thought in the warlord's mind was of control.

Sunstreaker couldn't help but seize just a little as his spark was merged, his mind flooded with Megatron's thoughts and desires.

Want, of every kind. Megatron wanted to kill, to maim, to fuck, to own. Visions of him dominating Optimus. Sunstreaker had seen hallucinations of every possible situation during these bondings. Torture, death. Megatron wanted the Earth to be soaked with the energon of every Autobot. He wanted to own the pathetic humans as slaves. The mech was no longer a sentient being, only a lustful whirl of hatred.

During the mergings, Sunstreaker had also caught snippets of memories; apparently Megatron fucked Starscream on a frequent basis. No wonder the second enjoyed 'facing Sunstreaker so much - it was the only time he was the 'facer instead of the 'facee. That wasn't a surprise; he and Sideswipe had joked about Starscream being Megatron's bitch for stellar-cycles.

With an unholy bellow, Megatron finished and left, leaving Sunstreaker alone with his thoughts. He didn't have many; they centered around surviving until he got out of this pit.

Approximately eighteen cycles later, Starscream came in for his own release. So much different from Megatron, and yet so similiar. The second was firm but nonviolent, taking Sunstreaker at his leisure. It rarely hurt. The sharp fingers stroking along his body, dipping under seams and petting sensitive wires. It was almost like Starscream wanted him to enjoy it.

And then their sparks were merged and 'Streaker saw exactly what the Seeker was doing. Traumatized by his own leader, he was recreating the times Megatron overpowered him, but switching their places. Starscream was angry, yes, and wanted power just as badly as Megatron but in a different way.

It didn't make Sunstreaker hate him any less.

**Ω-Ω**

"Please Ratchet. Talk to me," Sideswipe pleaded. The surgeon looked at him, eyes void of emotion, of anything. Ever since they had seen the live feed projected on every monitor in the Ark, Ratchet had withdrawn almost completely. He rarely spoke, worked for joors and joors on end, refused recharge and often refused fuel until Sideswipe would force him to take care of himself. Sideswipe tried desperately to keep his mate functioning, but it was just so _hard_.

It had been one month since Sunny had been abducted and it was hitting the Lamborghini and the doctor hardest. It was to be expected, and not a single Autobot faulted either of them for it.

This evening he had finally lured Ratchet to berth and now stroked his mate tenderly, wrapping the emergency vehicle in his arms.

"Please talk to me," the scarlet twin whispered, "We can't let this tear us apart."

"He's dead. I know he is," Ratchet replied, his voice hollow and vibrating with a checked rage. Sideswipe didn't answer, couldn't answer, not at first, and stroked his lover's face.

"There's no proof of that." He kissed the usually proud, broad shoulders.

A hand gently rested over his and Ratchet clutched him tightly. Their large berth seemed empty without the gold twin and it mimicked the aching hole in their sparks. Sideswipe kissed Ratchet's helm.

"Recharge. Please." But his lover didn't move, staring into space. He powered down slowly, but it wasn't a full recharge. Sideswipe knew why, he knew what full recharge meant. A constant flux, a nightmare, would come with full recharge. He had experienced many already, one in particular recurring constantly:

_Sunstreaker's eyes impassive, his mouth open slightly, his whole frame shaking with each of Megatron's thrusts. Transfluid glittering and sticking on those gold legs, the damaged limb blasted off at the knee with only wires left behind. His plating was heavily damaged, parts completely missing, that which remained heavily scratched, scorched, spattered with energon and lubricants. Torn wiring hung from every seam; it was a wonder that Sunstreaker was even still functional. _

_ "Sideswipe," Sunstreaker grunted, "Brother." _

_ Megatron's massive cable was in full view as it tore into the Autobot over and over, the dark warlord laughing with pleasure, "Such a tight valve on you. Too bad your brother won't come save you, hmm? You're my fuck toy now, my little pet… and you will be for all eternity." _

_ Sideswipe reached out, tried to move, anything, but he had no body. He was only a floating ghost, forced to watch. He could see Starscream and Soundwave in the shadows. The communications officer was, per usual, silent, but Starscream was watching the proceedings intently, a hand wrapped around his own spike._

_ The Lamborghini thought he was going to purge, and when Starscream stepped forward he nearly did. The Seeker took his place in front of the Autobot, and Sideswipe could see his intentions. He was going to – no, he couldn't – he was going to force his spike alongside Megatron's._

_ "Sunstreaker!"_

**Ω-Ω**

Prowl watched Sideswipe leave the rec room with two cubes and roused Jazz. They headed silently for their quarters. Jazz didn't question; he knew that Prowl didn't like to discuss sensitive information in public. Entering the combination makeshift office/sitting room, Prowl kept going to their private wash rack.

He ran the solvent hot and stood under it, silent. Jazz kissed his mate's shoulder and wrapped his arms around the shapely waist.

"There idn't proof that he's deactivated," Jazz said quietly. Prowl shook his helm.

"We can't find him anywhere, in any capacity. Why would they keep him? They… tortured him. To destroy our morale. And they succeeded My calculations indicate that there is a 2.8% chance that he's still alive. They have no reason to keep him activated, Jazz."

"An' ah refuse to believe that. Sunstreaker's a tough bolt. They've got him, they're bidin' their time."

"For what? To ransom him? We have nothing that they want nor need. They have either deactivated him or scrapped him or –"

"Don't you talk like that!" Jazz snapped, optics alight at his mate, "There is no proof of any of that!"

"Yes and there is no proof that he is alive, either. It is only logical to assume the worst. You are building on false hope," Prowl replied sadly, "I fear many are. And I fear what will happen when the truth comes to light."

Jazz let go, turning around and leaning heavily against the tiled wall.. His servos clenched into fists and he blew out his vents hard.

"Ah know. Ah know you're probably right, Prowler. It's jus' so damn hard. To lose 'im. He's an obnoxious asshole, sure, but he was _our _obnoxiousasshole." A hand rested on his shoulder and warm exhaust blew against his neck.

"I know."

"An' it'll… it'll kill Ratch and Sides. They'll both go ballistic, Prowl. Ah mean, you've seen Ratch how he is now…"

"He will heal and so will Sideswipe. We all will," Prowl turned Jazz around and touched their lips together in a tender kiss, wrapping his arms around the smaller mech. Jazz couldn't help but return the gesture, pressing their bodies close and holding his mate tightly. He couldn't imagine how he would feel if Prowl had been abducted like this, tortured like they saw Sunstreaker being tortured. Raped.

"Have they ever done that b'fore? Raped? Ah've never heard of it."

"Yes, it was rare, but it happened. It was never like this," Prowl kissed him again, rubbing along Jazz's back struts tenderly. "Let me wash you and we'll recharge. Worrying like this only wastes resources and it… pains me to see you so upset." Jazz didn't reply, simply allowing his mate to take a cloth to him and wash him thoroughly.

As they lay together on their berth, Prowl watched his mate slowly lull into recharge before relaxing a little more. As he shuttered his optics, he breathed out his own prayer.

"Primus, please save Sunstreaker."

**Ω-Ω**

Sunstreaker's engines rumbled in distaste as Knock Out came in. The medic was grinning and cat-called the Autobot shamelessly.

"Well they've done it," he laughed, "You've been sparked, Autobot! We don't know whose it is, but it doesn't matter. Significant odds are that it's Megatron's, of course. How do you like that, being sparked with the child of your enemy's leader?"

"Shouldn't you be fixing up your tin soldiers?" Sunny cursed, "I'm sure that last battle slagged a good load of 'em to the Pit. Primus knows Sideswipe probably took a dozen on his own."

The red muscle car sidled up to Sunstreaker, stroking a hand along the defined thighs.

"Still so much venom in you. I was sure it would have been fucked out of you by now," he cupped the round aft with both hands before forcing a kiss on his dangling captive.

"I need to hurry; they're coming to get you soon and this is my only chance. Time to go home, pretty… as if the 'Bots will want you anymore." Two fingers slipped into Sunny's used, torn valve.

"You act like it's such a success. You're a doctor; you should know how easily it is to terminate a new sparklet." Three fingers. The Autobot grunted.

The insane smile that spread over Knock Out's face actually unsettled Sunstreaker, and he knew this was about to go from bad to worse.

"And that's where you're wrong," the medic kissed him again, forcing his glossa into the twin's mouth. "I suppose you don't recall Soundwave editing your code, do you? Oh, he made something special just for you Autobots. Every single mech that we capture, we are going to spark. And none of the sparklets will be terminated… want to know why?" his voice was absolutely gleeful. Sunstreaker spit at him and groaned as Knock Out sheathed his spike in him rudely.

His thrusts were quick and fast, the medic groaning with pleasure. He seemed to forget himself for a moment, hands clutching the dented and scuffed hips.

"Primus, you are still awfully tight aren't you," Knock Out panted. Sunstreaker offlined his optics, not wanting to see that leering face any more. The medic wasn't even near rough enough to cause him any additional pain than he was already in.

"Are you done yet?" Sunstreaker gruffed, but couldn't withhold a cry as electricity suddenly surged hot through his body. Seems that Knock Out had drawn his energon prod out of subspace.

"Shut up and take it you harlot bitch," Knock Out slurred, his thrusts coming faster and more erratic. With a groan, he released himself and kissed Sunstreaker's lips.

"So do you still want to know why you aren't going to terminate that sparklet of yours?" he cackled. The twin opened his optics, irritated.

"You're still here?"

"Be as poker faced as you want, Autobot. You won't terminate that sparklet because if you do, you will deactivate yourself!"

**Ω-Ω**

"Prowl, I'm picking up a signal."

"… An Autobot emergency beacon."

"Yes, but there are no others anywhere near there. All other signals are accounted for. It's… Sir, it's Sunstreaker's signal."

"What?" Prowl froze his processors for a third of a klik to avoid his statistics computer from crashing before continuing. "Bluestreak, that's… highly improbable." He paused. "It's a trap."

"We have to investigate it, even if it is. It's there is _any_ chance 'Streaker could believe alive and we didn't go… I'd never be able to look Ratchet and Sideswipe in the optics ever again.

Silence.

_:Optimus, to the security room immediately.:_

**Ω-Ω**

Ironhide looked over the stats running down his internal monitors. The beacon was close, about eight kilometers north.

_:Bumblebee, Hound - go ahead:_ he ordered. Optimus hovered beside him and the old warrior bristled as he turned to his leader.

"It's a trap, Optimus, even if 'Streaker is here, it's going t'be an ambush and you know it."

The Prime only nodded. "I agree, Ironhide. But this is also the first sign we have had of Sunstreaker since his abduction… We must investigate." Ironhide sighed and nodded, looking over at Bulkhead and Wheeljack.

_:Move in.:_

Carefully, they crept though the hot sands. Then, Hound's voice came over the come link.

_:It's Sunstreaker an' he's… he's alone.:_

_:No signs of an ambush?:_

_:None… there isn't another spark out here. There's nothing, no one.:_

_:It's clear on this side, too.:_ Bumblebee added, _:He's hurt bad.:_

Rushing now, they ran, Optimus leading them, guns out.

_:Ironhide, stay with me. Everyone else- set up a perimeter immediately. I need a ground bridge prepared to our coordinates immediately.:_

He crossed the last dune and saw golden metal glaring in the sun. Sunstreaker lay in the sand, beacon steady and direct. It was obviously from him. Bumblebee and Hound had been right; there was no one in sight, no one on radar, no one on the spark scanner. Nothing.

Optimus' spark seized as he neared the fallen twin; for all intents and purposes, the Autobot appeared dead. The sand was soaked with lubricant, energon, coolant fluid, wires peeking out of almost every seam in the warrior's plating.

_:Bumblebee, approach.:_

The yellow minibot obliged, inching closer steadily, carefully. Optimus knelt once he reached Sunstreaker's side and ran a quick diagnostic.

_:He's activated, but offline. We need to get him to med bay now. Get First Aid ready. Prowl, you need to get Sideswipe and Ratchet and secure them immediately. I will tell them what's going on as soon as Sunstreaker is stabilized.:_

_:Yes, Sir.:_

Optimus gathered the Lamborghini in his arms delicately as the bridge opened before him. He did not glance behind him, trusting his team to cover any possibly ambush. One thought nagged him; it was obvious that the Decepticons had _meant_ for Sunstreaker to be found.

What could that mean? It was unlike Megatron to return any Autobot alive. There was only one terrible possibility, as far as the Prime was concerned. Either Sunstreaker was irreparable and they would have to deactivate him themselves out of mercy, or the warrior was so traumatized that his processor had wiped itself. Or maybe they had wiped him, even.

He didn't open his battle mask as he set Sunstreaker on a berth in the med bay, Wheeljack, Hoist and First Aid getting to work on him quickly. Optimus watched from the corner of the room, silent and stoic, his emotions perfectly contained.

Sunstreaker's damage actually wasn't as bad as it looked. He would need a new leg, the remnants of the former one having shut down from lack of care during his capture. His communications center would need rewired: delicate work that Ratchet would have to do even though it killed Optimus to make the medic work on his mate. It was necessary: to put it simply, no one else had Ratchet's skill and precision. He would need rewired and he was low on all of his fluids, but so far it looked like he would survive.

The hope of all the Autobots in the room grew as each scan and diagnostic revealed Sunstreaker to be in much better shape than any of them could have prayed. Hoist left after it became apparent that Sunstreaker was not critical. But there was one nagging thing that kept popping up on the scanners.

"I have no clue what that is," First Aid said quietly, gesturing to the abnormality in Sunstreaker's chassis. "I've never seen that before." He offered the data pad to Optimus, who took it and looked it over. His face furrowed and Wheeljack entered with the soldering set he had gone to retrieve.

"What are you looking at?" he asked upon seeing Optimus' face. Without a word, the Prime handed it over. Wheeljack set his soldering kit down and took it.

His face faulted.

"Optimus… it's… he's…"

"I know. I was hoping that I was wrong."

"What? What is wrong?" First Aid asked, the actions of the other two mechs causing him to panic. Fear flooded his system. What was wrong? Had the 'Cons implanted a virus in Sunstreaker? A bomb?

"Sunstreaker is sparked," Wheeljack barely whispered. "Those glitches sparked him. Optimus… you need to go talk to Ratchet and 'Sides _now_." The inventor looked up, optics almost white from shock.

But their leader was already gone.

-_-_-_- **Reviews are greatly appreciated. **-_-_-_-


	6. Five

**Title:** Born of Violence

**Author:** Bernarde

**Rating:** Mostly T, but will be M in a few chapters.

**Summary:** "You see, youngling, Sideswipe used to have a twin. A long time ago, during the war. Many of us believe that this peace was born of something that happened to him. His name was Sunstreaker."

**Author's Note: **I am looking for a beta reader for this story. I want someone to tell me exactly what sucks and why. If you are interested, please PM me.

**Ω-Ω**

When Optimus knocked on the door, Sideswipe knew something was wrong. His first thought was that they had found evidence of Sunstreaker's death, perhaps another blasted video clip. Or maybe they found his body, or a part, or a limb. Regardless, he knew that it had to do with his brother. It was the only way to explain the Prime's apparent irritation. He had knocked once and then overrode the entry code before Sideswipe could even react. That was very, very unlike Optimus.

"Come with me," his voice was demanding, but also somehow thin. Something the Lamborghini couldn't pinpoint, something he had never heard before.

He followed Optimus silently to a conference room; the same one Prowl had his meetings in every cycle. Ratchet was already there, standing, waiting, his servos clenched into fists at his sides. Sideswipe hated that Ratchet had been left alone, even if for only a moment.

After a beat of silence, their leader sat down and waited silently for them to do the same. But Ratchet didn't want to sit.

"He's deactivated, isn't he?" the medic finally spoke, his voice almost stupidly calm, "Just tell us, Optimus. Please."

"Sit down, my old friend," Optimus said his words softly, as if afraid of scaring a nervous organic. Sideswipe took his mate's hand, pulled him into a chair before seating himself at Ratchet's side.

"Sunstreaker is alive. Bluestreak picked up his emergency beacon and we retrieved him about seven joors ago."

"Then why didn't you tell us then!" Ratchet tried to rise, but the silver twin physically prevented him. This was so unlike them; usually it would be Ratchet restraining him instead of the other way around. Sideswipe felt empty, like Ratchet was so volatile right now that he had enough emotional distress for the both of them. Perhaps that was it.

Optimus waited until Sideswipe had settled his mate once more before continuing.

"We wanted to repair him first. It was evident when we picked him up that he was not in critical danger, so Hoist, Wheeljack and First Aid fixed him up the best that they could. That isn't the issue, however," the Prime's voice was cool and articulated. It pissed Sideswipe off. "He will live. There is something that the two of you need to know about his condition. He needs rewired, badly, and Ratchet... you are the only one who can perform such delicate work. Sunstreaker is also missing his entire left leg. It was lost in the battle and it seems that it was not given proper care. As a result, the remaining appendage deactivated."

"There's more than that, you wouldn't have us in here if it was that simple!" Ratchet was trembling with rage, with fear, and Sideswipe clutched his lover's hand tightly.

"Calm down, please," Sides whispered. His voice had a hint of begging to it.

"No, I will not calm down! What in the name of the Allspark is wrong with him, Optimus? Just tell us!"

The Prime had shuttered his optics and released his vents slowly.

"Sunstreaker is sparked." Whatever Ratchet had expected, whatever Sideswipe had expected... it was not that. Ratchet fell back in his chair, silent, mouth gaping. Sunstreaker was sparked?

"Could it be yours?" Prime asked, "Perhaps in a moment of heat, one of you fused with him before he was captured?"

"N-no! We don't have the- we don't have the energon, Optimus. To develop a sparkling," Ratchet turned to Sideswipe then, "Sideswipe...?" The twin shook his head and reached his arms out like a youngling.

"Ratchet," he begged. Without another word, the medic sank into his mate's arms.

Optimus just stared. He didn't know what to say. He had ever seen Ratchet like this, never. Not when patients had died on him, not even when a new sparklet had died in the medic's servos on Cybertron, during the beginning of the war. During the siege on Praxus, where they had found Prowl and Bluestreak.

"I will be in the hall," the leader said quietly, rising. He left quickly, and as the door shut behind him he heard a strangled cry. He didn't know who it came from, although he had an idea. Truth be told, he didn't really want to know.

_ Oh Ratchet, my old friend._

Ω-Ω

Ratchet remembered the words clearly and concisely. His biggest fear, voiced by none other than Wheeljack, of all mechs.

_"The twins are not the most logical of beings, Ratch... they will get fragged up and you will have to take care of them. I just don't want to see you get attached and then something... happen."_

_ "They've been in this war nearly as long as we have, and been involved in much more dangerous activities. I think they can handle themselves," he replied almost flippantly, facing his friend. Wheeljack shook his helm and placed a servo on Ratchet's broad shoulder._

_ "That's not what I meant. I know how you fall. You got up last time, but I don't know if you would be able to get up again." The medic was silent for a long moment. _

_ "And what am I supposed to do? Live alone and become more crotchety by the cycle?"_

_ "Ratchet. Stop. I just want to make sure you know of the risks."_

_ "I think I know the risks of war, Wheeljack!" _

_ The engineer stopped, letting his arms fall slack at his sides. He knew this was a losing battle, and just shook his helm again slowly. "You really love them. As much as they make it their primary goal to irritate the Pit out of you, you really do love them." Ratchet shrugged and turned partially away, flipping through an errant data pad. _

_ "It's hard to explain. I just know what I feel," the medic said quietly. "I'm sick of being alone and, for whatever reason the three of us... get along in a way that I haven't gotten along with anyone in stellar-cycles. Orns, even."_

_ "Except me."_

_ "Yes, well, you aren't quite as skilled in the berth as they are." That earned a chuckle from the engineer, who lightly slapped Ratchet on the back. "That's not even taking into account how many times you fragged up the apartment. Living with you is a constant nightmare, Wheeljack."_

_ "Just be careful."_

_ "I never support their asinine adventures. Go lecture them."_

_ "You know, I just might."_

And now, the engineer's words were coming to fruition. Ratchet had seen Sunstreaker messed up before and had been the one to treat him despite their relationship. He had seen both twins slagged almost beyond recognition, and he had always patched them back up. If only to attempt to beat the stupid out of them. Funny how that never worked.

But he had never seen Sunstreaker raped. He had never seen any mech being raped. Yes, he had treated the after effects of it, but... And now the other Autobots would ask him to treat his mate. He had to; there was no one else with his skill and capabilities. He had to treat the mech he had seen being spiked against his will, by Megatron, by Starscream. Even by Soundwave, if in a different way.

The image of Sunstreaker enveloped in long, black feelers made Ratchet dizzy and he sagged into the chair. Dimly, he could feel Sideswipe's hands clutching his, but he was too lost in his thoughts to really process it. He could remember Sunstreaker's cries, clear as the light of the sun, as Soundwave forced him to overload. As Megatron tore him apart. As Starscream stroked him like some kind of pet.

_ Primus, what have we done to deserve this? What has Sunstreaker done?_

"Ratchet?" Sideswipe's voice comforted his audials as much as they irritated them and he looked into his mate's face. He couldn't stop himself from kissing the silver twin chastely, and then the medic rose slowly.

"Well. Let's go."

Ω-Ω

Sunstreaker groaned as his systems booted up. He quickly noticed that the majority of his warnings were gone - according to his internals, all his fluids were topped off. Even more suspiciously, nothing hurt. Now what had those bastards done?

Ah, but then he remembered. Knock Out's hands on him, the words that tumbled from the Decepticon's filthy lips. The sharp sting of an energon prod, once, twice, a half dozen times. Knock Out fragging him, overloading, and then a sting in his neck cables. Then - darkness.

He knew where he was before he onlined his optics. He was in the Autobot med bay, he could smell it, and he could hear the constant hum of the medical machinery. He released his exhausts. Perhaps now his torture would be over.

No. Wait. The last thing Knock Out had said to him...

The sparkling. Oh, Primus and Unicron. He was sparked and he couldn't terminate it without deactivating himself. Of course the Decepticons wouldn't let him leave without their little parting gift.

He onlined his optics with a curse, startling First Aid. The young medic gasped involuntarily; he had been watching the twin's vitals carefully, watching them cycle back and forth. Progressively upward, meaning that Sunstreaker was coming to. He just hadn't expected the vocalization.

"S-Sunstreaker. Are you -," he stopped himself, "How do you feel?" The Lamborghini stared the ceiling and didn't answer. He didn't feel like it, so frag it. What responsibility did he have to First Aid, anyway? For all he cared, the little mech could go charge himself.

"Can you hear me?" Again, 'Streaker didn't feel like answering. So he didn't. He noticed that his left leg was completely and totally off his sensor net. Either they had disconnected it from his wiring or numbed it or removed it entirely; probably the latter. Why keep a dead limb?

"I'm pinging you; I know you're functioning..." First Aid muttered to himself, desperate to get the warrior to respond, give any sign that he wasn't just an empty shell.

Sunstreaker shuttered his optics, sick of looking at the ceiling with its bright overhead lights. He wanted to go back into recharge, not deal with this. He wanted to see Ratchet and Sideswipe, his mates, his family. Not the nervous medic that Ratchet was training. They would come, he figured.

He hoped. What if Megatron hadn't been lying about relaying the feed to the base? What if they had seen? What _had_ they seen? Had they seen the Decepticon's leader tearing him apart the first time? Had they seen the way Starscream touched him, or how Soundwave brought him to overload dozens of times? Had they seen Knock Out fuck him?

His processor swam with dread and... Fear. Was that fear? Even in Megatron's hands, he hadn't been afraid. Even in the heat of the rush on Polyhex, even when he thought Sideswipe was dead that one time, even when he had been abducted! He knew only rage and determination, his great desire for revenge. Never like this, was nothing like this. This was... it struck him to his very core in the worst sort of way, like a bolt of ice to the spark.

What was he afraid of?

Oh Primus, the sparkling. They had only spoken about it a couple of times, but both Sunstreaker and Sideswipe knew that Ratchet desperately wanted a child. Back on Cybertron, they had seen a side of Ratchet that few beings had ever seen. The mech was fantastic with younglings and had handled those patients with the greatest care. Gruff and cantankerous as Ratchet was, his spark absolutely melted at the coo of a sparklet, that warm and innocent laughter.

They had spoken about merging someday, if the war ever ended, if their energon supplies were ever again stable. Ratchet's desire was unspoken but fiercely tangible, and left the twins with a lingering aftertaste that was difficult to wash out.

And now, here he was, sparked. Despite their low supplies, despite the war. He was sparked and it wasn't with their own. Not even their own faction, but their enemy's leaders!

Sunstreaker suddenly realized that he would rather die than tell Sideswipe and Ratchet, than let them know of this. Doubtless though, First Aid knew. He would tell them! If he hadn't already!

"First Aid," he rumbled.

"Yes?"

"Have you told Ratchet and Sideswipe yet that I am sparked?"

"You-you know?"

"Of course I know, you fucking idiot. Answer the question."

"Well, no, I didn't, but Optimus... he told them."

"Scum of the Void," Sunstreaker fumed, startling the younger mech once again: this time, with his vulgarity. "Why? Why did you tell them!" He sat up suddenly, his voice low, "Do you know what is going to happen now?"

"You need to- to relax," First Aid stuttered, "Please lie back down, your wiring was severely damaged -"

"You don't think I know that? Why do you keep telling me things I already know?" the Lamborghini demanded, "Primus, you're supposed to be a medic, and you don't even know what's wrong!" he reached out and grabbed the smaller mech tightly.

"Sunstreaker, please let me go, I know you're upset-"

The door suddenly opened with a clang and Wheeljack was upon them, something stinging quick in Sunstreaker's shoulder. As he lost control of his musculature and fell back to the bed, the twin managed to slur a curse or three. This was the same slag that the Decepticons had done to him!

Restraints were being buckled around his limbs and he wished he could struggle.

"I'm sorry," Wheeljack murmured quietly, "I'm so sorry, but I can't let you hurt yourself." The engineer looked truly apologetic, but it blew past Sunstreaker's processor in favor of rage.

Those bastards, tying him up! How fragging dare they, he screamed silently. It was like he hadn't even left the Nemesis!

He watched silently as Wheeljack and First Aid commed between each other, keeping their optics on him. Then First Aid left and Wheeljack shook his head.

"I'm sorry Sunstreaker, I really am."

Then the door opened again, and Optimus came in. Wheeljack only nodded to their leader and left silently, before two painfully familiar chasses were in his vision.

Oh, Primus. Ratchet and Sideswipe stared at him as if he had turned into a Decepticon Seeker. He desperately wanted to touch them, to raise his hand and let them know it was all right.

Except it wasn't, it wasn't at all right, and he couldn't fragging move.

"Sunstreaker," his brother whispered, "You're home. You're here with us now."

What the fuck was the silver twin saying? As if _he_ needed comfort when it was painfully obvious that Sideswipe needed the comfort much more than Sunstreaker did! His anger grew as he tried to speak and couldn't.

Ratchet was silent, wide optics on his, and then precise fingers skimmed over Sunstreaker's arms and grasped his left hand. He didn't say a word, and Sideswipe took his other hand. Oh, what he wouldn't give to be able to speak. And for Optimus to be out of the damned room. He wished his comm center would work.

It took only moments for Sunstreaker to become fully preoccupied with his mates and his thoughts regarding them. None of them saw the Prime leave the room a few kliks later, leaving the trio alone. Neither Ratchet nor Sideswipe said a word, both of them simply holding him and each other and looking at him with agony and sorrow in their optics.

And he couldn't even click his vocalizer at them. He wondered how long the sedative lasted and hoped it wasn't lengthy. He didn't know how much more he could take of this.

Then Ratchet kissed his helm and Sideswipe kissed Ratchet's and they just kept holding him. Part of him wanted to scream, and part of him wanted to comfort his mates and assure them that everything would be all right. Even if it wouldn't be all right, even if everything was different now.

He would make everything all right. Somehow.

-_-_-_- Reviews are greatly appreciated -_-_-_-


	7. Six

**Title:** Born of Violence  
><strong>Author:<strong> Bernarde  
><strong>Rating:<strong> Mostly T, but will be M in a few chapters.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> "You see, youngling, Sideswipe used to have a twin. A long time ago, during the war. Many of us believe that this peace was born of something that happened to him. His name was Sunstreaker."

**Author's Note: **Man, the G1 cartoons are so corny it hurts sometimes.

**Ω-Ω**

The sedative faded soon and his vocalizer clicked as it rebooted.

"Release me?" Sunstreaker asked. Ratchet did so without a thought, embracing his mate the moment he was free. Sideswipe held them both, and all three were silent for a while as they absorbed each other's presence. Sunstreaker could feel the sparks of his two mates, still full of lingering fear, as they pulsed against his chassis.

He wondered exactly what Prime had told them. It was obvious that they knew he was sparked... they wouldn't have stared at him like that if they had not known. Had they seen the videos Soundwave claimed to have sent? Had he really sent them?

Sunstreaker knew the question on their minds, even if they would never ask it. Finally, it was he who broke the silence.

"I can't terminate it," he whispered softly. Ratchet moved away, just a little, setting himself on the berth as an optical ridge crooked upwards.

"You want to keep it?" the medic asked, his voice both heartbroken and, somehow, hopeful. A sparkling was a sparkling…

"No. It's not that. I have no choice. Soundwave implemented a code that will deactivate me if I try to terminate the sparkling." He said it calmly, stating it like he would the date or time. Ratchet's face never lost its quizzical look.

"What do you mean? How is that even possible? That level of coding can't be edited."

"I don't know. They are going to do this to every Autobot that they capture now. That's what they told me."

"Wh-"

"We can worry about that later," Sideswipe interrupted Ratchet, "For now... you're here, with us, and you're alive." Another silence ensued, hanging over them like a thick fog. Ratchet's optics looked over Sunstreaker's torn wiring, his missing plating, his absent leg. A careful hand stroked over his mate, and he leaned in to press a kiss to Sunstreaker's helm. He was not surprised when Sunny pulled away, but it still hurt.

"Please," Sunstreaker said quietly, "Don't. Not yet."

"It wasn't your fault," Ratchet replied, insistent. Sideswipe made a noise of agreement.

"I don't care. I don't want to talk about it."

The surgeon gave up the topic quickly, not wanting to agitate Sunstreaker needlessly. They could have those discussions another time. His hands smoothed over scorched and ruined plating. Then he saw the wiring set that Wheeljack had left in the room earlier.

"Can I rewire you?" he asked. Sideswipe got up immediately to retrieve it, and Sunstreaker nodded.

"Please. The constant shorting is really fucking annoying." Without another word, Ratchet lay Sunstreaker back down and got to work, Sideswipe helping him. It was delicate work and the level of damage was astronomical. Ratchet couldn't remember the last time he had seen someone so injured.

It hurt to fix his mate and it hurt to see Sunstreaker in such obvious discomfort. The Lamborghini had said nothing about his valve, as was to be expected. Ratchet idly wondered if perhaps Hoist, First Aid or Wheeljack had repaired it before Sunstreaker had come to. Probably not, that was delicate equipment also... some of the most sensitive actually, second only to the spark chamber. It would be yet another thing left to him.

_Yes, Ratchet, please repair your mate's valve because he was raped so violently that it was destroyed._

Part of him knew, logically, that he was the only one able to do so. And part of him hated his comrades for lacking that knowledge.

The silver twin helped, holding wires and carefully removing Sunstreaker's plating as needed. Sunny had refused sedation and just lay still, no doubt in a great amount of pain. Sideswipe couldn't help but hold his twin's hand, trying to comfort 'Streaker. Or comfort himself. He wasn't exactly sure. He wanted to twin-bond with his brother, reestablish the connection that had degraded while Sunstreaker was gone, but at the same time... He didn't know if he wanted to see his twin's spark and the sparklet that would be attached to it. He knew that Sunstreaker wouldn't want him to see it.

Ratchet worked for a long, long time, and they were not disturbed at all. A small wonder, considering First Aid's anxious nature and Wheeljack's almost parental care for Ratchet.

As his internal chronometer indicated that they had been there for almost a cycle and a half, Sideswipe was only a little surprised when Sunstreaker suddenly reached up and caught Ratchet's wrist in his hand.

"You need to rest," the golden twin said, sitting up and massaging the medic's palm with deft, broad fingers. Ratchet grumbled, but didn't reply, allowing 'Streaker to rub the tension out of his cramped servo.

"You have done more than enough. First Aid can finish the rest."

"I want to finish," Ratchet replied, but didn't deny that he was exhausted. Sideswipe took his other hand and mimicked Sunstreaker's actions. The medic sighed as warm pleasure spread from the sensitive appendages. Not sexual pleasure, but the pleasure of relaxing with loved ones after a long period of hard, critical work.

"Please recharge. And when was the last time you refueled?" Sunstreaker asked. They all knew of Ratchet's tendency to become so stressed that he neglected himself.

Neither of his mates answered him, and then Sideswipe got up and left: presumably to get fuel, because it was obvious that neither of them would want to recharge away from the others. He returned soon with three cubes, giving one each to Ratchet and his brother. Sunstreaker watched the others drain theirs before he drank his own, and then Sideswipe climbed onto the berth with him.

"Recharge, both of you," 'Streaker demanded. It took some shifting, but all three mechs managed to fit onto the medical berth, tangled up in each other. Exhausted from being awake for so long after his repairs, Sunstreaker fell into recharge quickly, unable to help himself.

Sideswipe and Ratchet remained awake, holding him silently. It felt like a miracle to have their mate back, but at the same time... Sideswipe nuzzled his twin anxiously. What was this nonsense, that Sunstreaker couldn't terminate the sparkling? Soundwave was a notoriously excellent coder, but to be able to edit such a base part of a mech's coding? It was impossible. It _had_to be impossible. Primus, to raise a sparkling sired by a Decepticon... sired by the commanders, even! It made his tanks churn almost as much as when he had seen the video feeds of Sunstreaker's torture.

He just wanted to recharge, he wanted to rejoice in his twin, his mate, being home. But no, this... this thing growing inside of Sunstreaker's spark prevented him from rest. They could terminate the sparkling after it had ejected... but Sideswipe knew damn well that Ratchet would never go for that. He knew all too well Ratchet's stance on such things. A life was a life.

Ratchet had slipped into recharge quickly, as if all of the anxiety and dread that had clouded his demeanor for the past month and a half was gone. Perhaps it was, Sideswipe considered. Or maybe Ratchet was just so exhausted that he finally broke under the pressure.

Resting his helm against Sunstreaker's shoulder, he let out a heavy vent and forced himself into power down.

**Ω-Ω**

Wheeljack and Smokescreen peered over the code on their respective data pads. Sunstreaker lay motionless on the berth, powered down, cables hooked up to the two ports in his helm. Ratchet and Sideswipe were absent solely because of Optimus' order for them to power down for a half-cycle each. Wheeljack felt somewhat bad for scanning 'Streaker's code while his best friend was in forced power-down. At the same time, he knew it had to be done, else Ratchet would be up his aft right now. Not that Wheeljack could blame him.

But that wasn't the main issue on his processor. No, the main issue would be the lines of nonsensical text staring him in the face.

Smokescreen made a noise of frustration, "This... this isn't even code," he spat. "This is gibberish."

"It's encrypted," Wheeljack replied.

"I know _that_, my mech, but even for encryption it's wonky." The engineer was pulled from his studying to actually look at the other Autobot for a weird moment.

"It's written by Soundwave. What did you expect?" he asked with a little more anger than may have been necessary. Smokescreen shrugged and went quiet. The only hope they had would be breaking the encryption, and Wheeljack didn't need Prowl's statistical capabilities to figure the odds of that happening. Soundwave was probably the best living coder, and his security measures were second to none.

As hopeful as the Lancia wanted to be, he knew that, statistically, they would not decrypt and understand the code in time to terminate Sunstreaker's sparklet. Cybertronian gestation periods were short compared to the amount of time this could take.

"Sunstreaker said that they are going to spark every Autobot they catch now." It was like Smokescreen didn't know how to be quiet. No wonder he and Bluestreak were such good friends. Wheeljack grunted in response, but the racer continued. "We'll never decode and unravel this in time for... for him."

"I know that. Once we figure it out, we can use it if they do get anyone else." Primus, how he hoped that Sunstreaker's would be the only code they had to break. Bearing this would be enough.  
>He sent a copy to Perceptor via his communications link, knowing that the scientist would be useful in helping them remove the encryption. As he received a ping from Percy in return, he cycled his vents and closed his optics for a moment.<p>

"You okay, 'Jack?" Smokescreen asked, concerned.

"I'm as good as I'm gonna get until we crack this slagged thing."

**Ω-Ω**

Sunstreaker watched his mates recharging, the first of them to wake up. He was largely repaired externally, save for some of the worst plating and his missing leg. The missing appendage had been temporarily capped off with a smooth metal plate and he was given the equivalent of a cane to get around. It wasn't physically difficult, but it made him feel off-balanced (in more ways than one) and vulnerable.

He set a hand over his spark and carefully untangled himself from his mates. Silently, he stole out to the sitting room of their quarters. Slowly, he set himself on the couch. His hand still hadn't moved.

A sparklet. Primus and Unicron.

He didn't know if he should be feeling the sparklet yet, or suffering side effects. He hadn't personally known a sparklet or its bearer in the last two thousand years, so it wasn't really required knowledge for him.

Regardless, he had noticed his constant exhaustion upon his return to the base. Recharge lurked constantly in the back of his processor. He could barely stay awake for a full cycle, and rarely did. He idly wondered if it was another part of what Soundwave had implemented in his code. _Probably..._

Thinking about Soundwave hurt. Not because of memories of the mind-rapes, but because of what Sunstreaker had seen inside the carrier's spark. An empty void, so cold that it felt like his wires were icing over. So cold but so hot in the absolute worst way. There was something wrong with that mech. Sunstreaker had felt a power lurking there that he had never felt when Megatron or Starscream merged him.

He shook his helm and cut that thought off with a kill process, followed by a defrag that hit his mind like a galacton of bricks. He'd found it was the only way to get rid of these troubling thoughts, and even though it caused him to lag badly, figured it was better than dealing with it. It took him two and a half kliks to come back to himself and, already tired again, spun into power down.

It was undeniable; Soundwave was much more sinister than any had ever given him credit.

**Ω-Ω**

"Prowl," Jazz said quietly, rubbing close to his mate and kissing the other mech gently.

"Mmm?" the tactician murmured, engrossed in a data pad. He had just come back from a long patrol and was looking over the supply list for the next quartex. Their energon was actually quite plentiful at this time, something that would undoubtedly change soon. Supplies were never steady and they were under strict rations for the majority of the time. Only celebrations and injuries warranted extra rations, and celebrations only rarely.

Perhaps if the Decepticons would stop sabotaging their refining attempts...

Jazz rubbed against his partner tenaciously, "You need to relax. Let me take care of you, Prowler."

"I need to cross-reference this list," Prowl replied, not nearly as irritated as he would have been normally. Sunstreaker's return had left an imprint on many of the Autobots, whether they admitted it or not.  
>Jazz had noticed the drop in Prowl's usually obsessive demeanor.<p>

"Kiss," he demanded.

"No."

The smaller mech whipped the data pad away from Prowl's grasp, and it crashed into the wall with a thunderous clang as Jazz seated himself upon his mate's lap.

"Kiss." He leaned in and nuzzled his face against Prowl's, who responded with a soft peck. Jazz returned it, and then kissed his partner passionately. It was slow and loving, hopeful and adoring.  
>Ordinarily Prowl would have ordered Jazz away and been angry at the distraction. Jazz physically taking his data pad from him, and then throwing it on top of that, would have otherwise sent him into an absolute fit. Some mechs had deadlines! He completely understood the need for sexual intimacy or affection, but there were special times and places for that. Certainly not in his office... mostly.<p>

Now, however, he encouraged his mate, laying Jazz onto his desk and kissing him senseless. The difference in Prowl's behavior was astonishing, Jazz noted. Very rare was he so passionate and so incensed about physical affection, so ready to cover his mate with kisses and cuddles.

He was gentle with his mate, touches soft and loving. He had never been violent, but it was clear to both mechs that this was beyond mere sex. Both of them moved slow and languid, carefully proclaiming their bond via physical union.

As he held Jazz tightly afterwards, the little black-and-white wrapped securely in his arms, Prowl thanked Primus that it hadn't been Jazz abducted during that fateful battle.

**Ω-Ω**

The news of the attack came like a nuclear blast. Within moments, the Beta pack was deployed, with Optimus at the head. Megatron and the Command Trine, as well as plenty of backup, had rushed a summit of governmental leaders and had already killed dozens.

Ratchet's jaw was tight, his denta grinding hard against each other as he waited. Sunstreaker was with Sideswipe, in their quarters, but he had to be here. They had to be ready for casualties.  
>First Aid was organizing an errant cabinet and Hoist was nowhere to be found. He would come, Ratchet knew. He was probably just setting up his own tools. He had a tendency to take care of their larger soldiers, and often prepared a space in his workshop specifically for them. The med bay got crowded enough as it was.<p>

The doctor watched the monitor displaying the battle o f Optimus' point of view with avid disinterest. He wanted the fight to be over so that he could fix everyone up and go back to the twins.  
>Hoist entered the med bay, eying Ratchet up carefully. "You ready, doc?" he asked, his tone wary. Ratchet only nodded. "Ratchet, I'm sorry about-" Suddenly the ambulance whirled around and struck Hoist hard.<p>

"Don't say a word about it," he snarled in anger and panic, "Just leave me alone."

Hoist hadn't reacted to the blow, hadn't even moved, and waited calmly until Ratchet had stormed out of the room and into his office. First Aid stared with unabashed horror.

"Well, 'Aid, take heed," he said to the apprentice, "And learn from my mistakes. I just wanted to say that my area is set up in case any big ones take a hit. Last time Skyfire got pretty damaged, and I'm willing to bet that they will gun for him again."

First Aid just stared, and then looked away, returning to his sorting. Hoist got the hint and left. As the apprentice worked, keeping a careful optic on the monitor hanging from the wall, he could head noises coming from Ratchet's office. A rhythmic, repeated banging, like Ratchet was hitting something hard. Though he didn't want to invoke the surgeon's wrath, First Aid couldn't let Ratchet damage himself. Quickly, he rose and went to Ratchet's office door. He expected it to be locked, but it wasn't. The noise continued even as he opened the door.

"Ratchet?" He was appalled at the sight within the room. A shelf full of data pads, each one dedicated to a different Autobot, had been knocked over and then destroyed. The data pads were everywhere, and First Aid carefully avoided stepping on them as Ratchet stopped moving. The head surgeon had been punching the wall violently, half a dozen holes marking his progress. His right hand had crumpled and his left was in the process of acquiring as much damage.

"Ratchet!" the smaller mech grabbed his mentor's hands, preventing him from hurting himself anymore, and he commed Wheeljack.

_:Wheeljack, get to med bay quick. Ratchet's-:_ His comm was cut off as he was literally picked up and thrown across the room. His back slammed against the wall and knocked his sensors out for a moment.

"Ratchet, what the-"

"Shut up! Just shut up and leave me alone! Get out of my office!" Ratchet screamed at the smaller mech, looming over First Aid as if he was going to hit him again. First Aid stumbled to his feet and darted out of the room as quickly as he could, the door slamming shut as he left.

A flash of white and green met his optics and Wheeljack stared at him, opening his mouth to speak.

"Don't go in there," First Aid gasped, "Don't go in there."

"What happened?" the Lancia asked, seeing the dents and scuffs on First Aid's back, marks on his shoulders from where Ratchet had grabbed him.

"Ratchet was hurting himself, I tried to stop him… he threw me," the apprentice explained, rolling his shoulder joints to make sure they weren't damaged, "I… would leave him alone."

Wheeljack shook his head. "No, we can't leave him like that. I know him better than you, First Aid… I'll talk to him."

"Take this in case," First Aid handed the engineer a tranquilizer, "I have never seen him like that." Wheeljack accepted the syringe and looked at it sadly before sub-spacing it.

"Get out of here for now, First Aid. I can't promise that this won't get ugly, and I don't want you to get hurt. Make sure no one comes in until I comm you. If any casualties come in… send them to Hoist. This won't take long," he said quietly. First Aid only nodded and left the medical bay. Wheeljack cycled his vents and set his shoulders. Only once before had he seen Ratchet in this mood, when a newly born sparklet had died in his arms after the attack on Praxus.

This time it would be personal, and Wheeljack didn't know if he had the strength to tide Ratchet's rage. But damn it, he would try. Ratchet was his best friend, after all.

**-_-_-_- Reviews are greatly appreciated -_-_-_-**


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